The Ties That Bind
by SilverPurity
Summary: When Fuu suffers a mild injury, the group falls into disarray. When one of the pieces is missing, how does one complete the puzzle? Jin contemplates this, and Momo. Rated for mild language.


Disclaimer: Don't own Champloo or its characters. If I did, I doubt that I would be parked in front of my computer writing fanfics!

A/N: Yay, my first post on This story takes place after the "Unholy Union" episode, and is told from Jin's POV. It's a oneshot so far, but could evolve into something more if I get enough prodding. Reviews are encouraged--let me know if you guys like it and would like to see a continuation!

**The Ties That Bind  
**

She looks ridiculous and completely undignified. Still, I must grudgingly admit that he was right—there was nothing else to be done about it.

I realize that I am walking a few paces behind; not because I am maintaining any sort of vigilance on the path behind us, but because I do not wish to be seen with them. I don't imagine many people travel this way—in fact, we are probably the only fools to do so in a very long time—so I doubt that anyone would see this spectacle. It is merely the concept.

She's whining again, begging him to lift her up since she seems to be sliding down his back for the thousandth time since we started walking. He grumbles something unintelligible and complies, hiking her up a bit higher. She makes a strange gasping sound, then kicks his side with the foot that isn't injured.

"Not so rough, you stupid jerk!" she yells.

He glances at her, furious, from the corner of his eye. "Listen up, you little bitch! This whole mess is your fault! You're at my mercy right now, so quit shouting in my ear if you don't want to get dropped on your ass!"

She looks as though she is about to say something, but promptly snaps her mouth shut. Her expression crumbles, and she sighs and hangs her head an inch of so from the back of his neck. She knows as well as any of us that he's right, again.

I suppose we might have done something to stop her from running off the way she did; that animal of hers flew off of her shoulder some distance back, and Fuu stupidly decided to chase after it. We both called to her, but neither of us moved to pursue her. It was only after hearing a high-pitched scream and a crunch of dead leaves that we both went tearing into the woods.

We found her sitting on the ground, inspecting and furiously rubbing her right ankle. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears when she turned them upward to look at us. Mugen scoffed and immediately launched into a profane harangue of insults. She was indignant, as usual, but rather than give in to her almost reflexive bantering, she squared her jaw and pushed herself up into a kneeling position. She slowly stood, though it was clear that she was favoring her left foot. She dusted off her kimono and shot him a smug glance before taking a cautious step forward. Mugen had the decency to look impressed for a moment, and the cruelty to grin when she collapsed. She wanted to cry—it was written all over her face. Her shoulders lifted as she took a long, deep breath and calmed herself. And then it was my turn to be impressed at the fact that she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Every so often she reminds me that she is the daughter of a samurai after all.

"It serves you right, you know," Mugen said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Who the hell goes running through the woods like that, anyway?"

His words were getting to her. Her shoulders drooped a little, and her proud head tilted forward. I remembered then that, samurai's daughter or not, she is still only a fifteen-year-old girl.

"Mugen," I said quietly, "that's enough. We're wasting time."

He glares at me as if taking my words as a challenge. He seems to regard anything I say to him as a challenge.

"And what do you suggest we do about it? As much as I'd like to, we can't just leave this idiot here by herself."

I surveyed the area quickly. The canopy of the forest was already alight with sunset. We were well off the beaten path, with no water or shelter in sight.

"We can't stop here. We'll have to keep going until we can find shelter for the night."

Mugen sighed and shook his head. "Man, and this guy's supposed to be the smart one…"

I resolved to let this be without incident. If I've learned one thing at all about this man, it is that he exists to irritate me.

Fuu's small voice traveled up from the pile of leaves on the ground: "We don't have much farther to go until we're out of here, right?"

I pictured the map in my mind. "That's right."

She made it a point to study the leaves as she meekly said, "I'm not that heavy, you know. One of you could carry me, at least until we get out of the forest."

Mugen looked faintly scandalized, and I'm sure that my expression mirrored his. We looked at each other, incredulous and appalled. A strange, unspoken dialogue took place between us, in which we both realized that her suggestion was probably the best course of action. He sighed and kicked at the ground.

"Damn it. You sure you can't just walk it off?"

Fuu shook her head slowly, still fixated on a spot near her foot. Mugen cursed loudly and she cringed. He turned to me as he gestured toward the girl on the ground.

"Well, I guess there's nothing else to do. Better get a move on."

I stared at him, completely astounded. "What?"

"_I_ can't carry her." He tugged on the sword belt that crossed his shoulder. "I've already got this on my back."

I shook my head. "You are the laziest person I've ever known."

His hand went for the hilt of his sword. I gripped the saya of my katana, my thumb pushing against the tsuba. _ So, it's going to come to this again_, I thought. Mugen sneered.

"I know one way to settle this…"

"Hold it!"

We looked toward Fuu, whom we had mutually forgotten. She rummaged in her sleeve until she pulled out a single gold mon. She held it up toward us with a furious scowl.

"How many times have I told you guys to quit fighting! Honestly, Mugen, if you killed Jin you'd just have to carry me anyway!"

He smirked, his eyes still locked on mine. "Think again, sweetheart. I'd just leave you here and be done with both of you."

His voice was thick with confrontation. I pushed on the tsuba of my sword, readying the blade for a quick draw. "Try it."

"_Enough!_" Fuu thundered. Fifteen years old, hardly any meat on her tiny frame, and she can still manage to _thunder_. "I didn't go digging for this thing for my health, you know! If it comes up heads, Mugen carries me. If it's tails, Jin does it. Okay?"

Mugen narrowed his eyes at me, but dropped his hand. I pushed my blade back into the saya with a soft 'click' and slackened my stance.

"Fine with me," I agreed.

Mugen leaned forward and snatched the coin from her hand with a low growl. He tossed it into the air with much less force than the last time we were forced to surrender to the outcome of a coin toss. It landed with a small thump next to Fuu's sandal. We strained to see the verdict, but Fuu's head obscured our vision. She looked up with a little smirk and smugly announced, "Heads."

Mugen scowled in disbelief. "_What_!"

Fuu tucked the coin back into her sleeve. "You heard me. It's only fair, so quit whining and help me up."

To my complete shock, he didn't argue further. The expression on his face conveyed very well the fact that we was not pleased with the conclusion, but he merely cursed and extended a hand toward Fuu. He pulled her up from the ground a bit roughly, but she wasn't inclined to complain. She picked a few leaves off of her kimono while Mugen pulled his sword belt over his head. He tossed the weapon carelessly into her hands. She stared at the thing as if to ask what she should do with it.

"You're going to have to carry that if I have to carry you," Mugen clarified.

And that is how she came to be in this state, with her legs thrown rather inappropriately over his hips, and that strange sword of his strapped to her back. It's uncouth for a woman to carry a sword, especially _that_ sword. The garish thing just screams for attention as it is, but the way the brightly colored pattern of the belt clashes against the delicate pink of her kimono makes it that much worse.

I truly do not wish to be associated with them at the moment.

It's not long before they are arguing again. Fuu started it this time, so I will give Mugen that much credit. She's nagging him about the way he smells, and that he should take a bath for once. I silently agree with her, though his hygiene is among the least of our worries at present. He snarls at her the way he always does when he feels insulted, and tells her that he'd be more than happy to drop her if she doesn't want to be so close to him. She retorts with the worst possible comment:

"You wouldn't dare."

And it's as simple as that. He lets go of her legs, and she shrieks and tightens her arms around his shoulders in a feeble attempt to hold her position. It's a lost cause, and she slams into the ground hard on her backside. She looks shocked for a split second, but the disbelief is quickly replaced with a bristling rage that looks out of place on her typically sweet face. He stares down at her in a mixture of anger and sadistic amusement.

"What's the matter, princess?" he teases. "You didn't think I'd do it?"

She reaches to the ground and seizes a small pebble, which she hurls at him with all the blind fury of a child in the throes of a massive temper tantrum. She curses at him, and I'm admittedly shocked to hear such obscenities from a fifteen-year-old girl.

As usual, it's gone from bad to worse. I _definitely_ do not wish to be associated with them.

I decide that it's up to me, once again, to play the role of peacemaker and put an end to this unseemly squabbling. I step forward and clear my throat pointedly, which catches Fuu's attention. She looks at me as if to say, _Did you see it, Jin? Did you see what he did?_

Before either of them can point a finger at the other, I casually announce, "If you are quite finished arguing, I think it would be wise to keep going."

Mugen scoffs. "Go, then. Sayonara."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Fuu is trying to stand again, and I see her falter from the corner of my eye. I'm mostly focused on Mugen, however; with a person that unstable, one can never be too cautious. As usual, he is on the defensive in the blink of an eye.

"You think I need you morons?" he barks. "That's a laugh."

I've also come to realize something else about this man: verbal fights require just as much strategy as physical ones. I hate to admit it, but I can win a verbal fight with much more ease. It's as simple as calling his bluff, though insulting his intelligence never hurts.

I can't help but smirk. "Prove it."

Fuu's head whips around as she utters a stunned, "Huh?"

I feel obliged to continue. "If you think you can find the way out on your own, be my guest. We'll be waiting for you in the morning."

The promise of competition fans the fire in his eyes. He smiles, that wry little smile that is second nature before any sort of duel.

"All right, mister High and Mighty. You're on."

He takes a step toward Fuu and bends down to drag his sword belt over her head. It's unnecessary, really; I'm sure that he could have merely asked for it, and she'd have gladly given it back. The force pulls her forward and she falls face-first on the ground with a furious howl. One of her hairsticks is impaled in Mugen's belt, and he plucks it out and carelessly tosses it over his shoulder to land beside her head, as if to add insult to the injury.

Fuu props herself up on her elbows and looks up. I am glad that Mugen's back is turned, because her eyes are glistening with the promise of angry tears. He slings his sword onto his back and starts to walk away, and Fuu balls her fists and slams them into the ground.

"Hold on a second!" she cries. "Mugen!"

He waves over his shoulder without turning around. "Save it, girlie. I'll see you losers in the morning."

I can't help but sigh in exasperation. Mugen becomes an indistinct blur of red and gray against the foliage. Good riddance.

Fuu pushes herself up into a sitting position, her knees pushed tightly against her chest. I casually pretend that I don't see her wipe a tear onto her sleeve. She pulls her remaining hairstick out of the tangled mess left in the other's absence and carelessly tosses it next to its twin. Her voice is small and defeated when she speaks again:

"You shouldn't have done that, Jin."

Her tone is such that I can't help but feel a pang of guilt. A moment later, I find myself scorning my contrition. I just did her a favor, after all. I did us _both_ a favor. They do nothing but bicker and insult one another, and I find him testing my last nerve at every moment. We're better off without him.

Aren't we?

"What's done is done," I say with a measure of indifference. "He can take care of himself, at any rate."

"That's not what I meant." That squirrel—Momo, I think she called it—scrambles out of her kimono and alights on her shoulder. It tilts its head to the side as if asking a question, and punctuates the motion with a tiny 'cheep'. Fuu sighs and turns her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder to partially obscure her face.

"I'm not worried about Mugen," she tells me quietly. "I know he can take care of himself. And I'm not worried about you, either."

And suddenly it all falls into place. I don't understand women very well, and most of the time find their sentimentality cumbersome and theatrical. However, there is an undeniable truth behind the words that she will not say: she depends on us for a reason. Without her "bodyguards" she would probably still be stuck in that brothel, selling herself to the Nagatomi. For all his impertinence and unabashed recklessness, Mugen has his uses. Even I must admit to that. And without me, neither of them would know how to formulate a plan if one dropped from the sky and landed at their feet. Fuu lacks the common sense for such action, and Mugen is too easily frustrated by details.

_Locked together in misery_, I think bitterly, _if we're ever going to survive. _

Maybe I should learn to curb my inclination to kill him. That is, if we ever find him.

I kneel on the ground in front of Fuu and look over my shoulder. She is staring at me with eyes wide and mildly shocked. I turn my gaze to the forest ahead of us, then bow my head.

I know when I am defeated.

"Come on," I usher her. I'm surprised to find that my voice is vaguely apologetic. "We shouldn't waste any more time here."

Another glance over my shoulder finds Fuu smiling. She nods and tucks her discarded hairsticks into the neckband of her kimono. A moment later her thin arms are clasped around my neck, her legs are pressing against my hips, and I am struggling to stand without unbalancing the two of us.

It only lasts until I feel something small and furry tickling the back of my neck, and a small brown body darts across my shoulder and drops into my kimono. Without thinking, I pull my arms from beneath Fuu's knees and plunge my hands into my kimono in an effort to locate and _dismember_ the offending furball. Fuu shrieks as she slides off my back and hits the ground for the second time this evening. My hand closes around Momo's tail, and I yank the mangy thing from my kimono.

Wherever he is, I'm sure Mugen can hear her screaming at me. As the sun finally sets behind us, the treetops thunder with Fuu's patented reproach:

"_YOU JERK!_"

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want a continuation, and I'll be happy to kick the Muses and make them work for a change!


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